


Dark Paradise

by emzazzy2004



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Aunt Emma Perkins, Bisexual Emma Perkins, Emma loves Paul's eyes, Emma totally crushed on Paul too, F/M, Ghost Jane Perkins, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, So Tim and Tom who?, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Written before Black Friday came out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27716549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emzazzy2004/pseuds/emzazzy2004
Summary: Emma moved past the tall, thick man, starting down the hall toward the office, where the phone was kept. It was strange for anyone but Jane to call, and even then Emma hadn't sent any postcards or letters from this place, so it was nearly impossible that it was Jane either. It was probably a wrong number or something. A tax collector at best.But she was wrong.Oh, she was so wrong."Ms. Perkins, are you this sister of Jane Marjorie Perkins? There's been an accident."---One phone call, one that should be like any other, and she's back where she started, where she never wanted to be again.
Relationships: Emma Perkins & Original Character(s), Jane Perkins/ Original Male Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Kudos: 15





	Dark Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> I recommend listening to Dark Paradise by Lana Del Ray while reading. https://youtu.be/B_eudpDD9tA
> 
> TW Suicide, Alcoholism, Depression, Grief

"Señorita. Perkins!" a voice shouted, tongue twisting the unfamiliar language of the motel's latest American patron. The door shuddered with the banging of a fist. "There is phone call for you down the stairs!"

A lump underneath the dumpy, scratchy, threadbare motel blankets stirred begrudgingly.

"Coming, coming!" Emma groaned, throwing back the covers. "Voy a saltar de un acantilado, lo juro," she muttered to herself. It was a nice thought, but one for another day. There were many cliffs to choose from there at Lake Atitlan.

"Hola, Señor Vegas. Did they leave a name?" She rubbed the sleep from her eyes with the back of her hand, letting them adjust to the light of the hallway.

"Ah, no. But did leave a number to call. Said was urgent." He gestured widely with his large hands trying with difficulty to portray words alien to his mouth, accent thick and endearing. Mr. Vegas was one of the better people she'd met in her travels. She'd been staying at his motel for a few weeks, and he was very kind. Well, when he wasn't banging on her door at 7 a.m.

Emma moved past the tall, thick man, starting down the hall toward the office, where the phone was kept. It was strange for anyone but Jane to call, and even then Emma hadn't sent any postcards or letters from this place, so it was nearly impossible that it was Jane either. It was probably a wrong number or something. A tax collector at best.

But she was wrong.

Oh, she was so wrong.

"Ms. Perkins, are you this sister of Jane Marjorie Perkins? There's been an accident."

\----------

All my friends tell me I should move on  
I'm lying in the ocean, singing your song

No one was waiting for her at the airport. She didn't expect anyone, but still... It stung. Only a bit, though.

Clivesdale was in a hurry, like usual, but Hatchetfield was just bustling along at its jolly, timely pace, as always. She hated it. Big cities were the places to be, so much room for adventure and danger and people minding their own fucking business. The opposite of a small town such as the one she'd grown up in.

Everywhere Emma looked she saw herself. The café where she'd gotten her first job at the ripe old age of sixteen. The curb where she'd wrecked her bike and gotten that awful bruise on her face just in time for picture day back in seventh grade. The parking lot where she'd had her first kiss in the back seat of some sleazy dude's car after homecoming freshman year. Such painful memories whirled about her, piercing her ears with their agonizing screams of boredom.

Because for her whole life, never had she once felt anything but bored. Not until she left this cursed place.

She saw Jane too. But she tried not to think about it. Told herself over and over about her iron heart. Nothing could hurt her anymore. Emma had spent so much of her childhood being second born, second best, second choice. And so, she had decided that things wouldn't hurt anymore. It worked for the most part.

Denial wouldn't work this time though, would it? Because Jane was gone. Jane, the only one in her entire life, her entire existence, that had tried with her, no matter how much Emma had pushed her away.

The ice thawed a bit against her will and feelings slid in and she ignored, ignored, ignored.

Ah  
That's how you sing it

The procession was silent as they floated down to the grave, to the casket, to what was once Jane but is no longer. Jane's husband, Mark, and their two year old twins, Allie and Molly, led the crowd, toddling down the hill slowly, hands linked like a perfect, stock photo family. Except they weren't perfect. There was a certain short, sweet, caring person missing from the equation.

Mark looked back at her, and Emma tried to blink away the tears, hardening her features to those of a cold, unfeeling soldier, marching on through the crossfire. He offered her a sad, half smile. Rage flared in her eyes, and his brow furrowed before his gaze returned to the small tent just ahead. How dare he be able to smile, when her insides were pulverized in a rotting stew of agonizing pain?

Jane and Mark had met back in elementary school, best friends turned high school sweethearts. And by default, Mark had known Emma her whole life. He had been like an older brother, fixing her milkshakes and bandaging her wounds since she could remember. He knew she coped this way. But he left her alone for then. Smart move on his part, because she wanted to gut something with a hunting knife. Maybe herself. It would be interesting to see what would spill from beneath her skin.

Would there be blood or only ice?

Loving you forever can't be wrong  
Even though you're not here  
Won't move on

As they prayed over the dark, sleek casket, Emma stood stone still. There was no way she would look. No. She couldn't look. It ran through her head in a mantra of thoughts, a shield to the messy storm blowing around her. Don't look can't look don't look can't look.

Suddenly, a voice carried through the crowd, a whisper in her ear echoing from miles and miles away. It froze her blood, turned her stomach, clogged her airway.

"It's so sad, isn't it?"

The voice, though not heard in months and months, was one so ingrained into Emma's brain that she couldn't not recognize it. It was akin to hers, a touch lighter and bouncier, like if Emma had a dozen shots of espresso.

Jane.

And when she turned, there stood a wisp of her sister. Her caramel hair was tied back in a black bow, bangs falling in her face. Her face. It looked like a mirror of Emma's, with dark, protruding eyes, sharp jaw, straight nose, and wide set lips with a prominent cupid's bow. Growing up they'd been mistaken for twins. And now, there stood Jane, so lifelike at her own funeral. And no one but Emma seemed to see her.

Jane turned towards her. Their brown eyes met, and Emma opened her mouth to say something. Anything. But in a blink, Jane was gone.

Ah  
That's how we play it

"Emma!" She had turned to leave, but wasn't getting off that easy. Mark clamored towards her, daughters trailing behind him slowly.

"Em, I didn't get to see you yet!" He seemed nervous, like he was trying to say the right lines but hadn't seen the script. "How have you been?" Immediately he groaned. What a stupid thing to ask.

"You know what, Mark? Not so great."

Her heart was still beating like a drum in her chest, thump thump thumping so hard that it hurt. What had she just seen? Surely it wasn't Jane. But then again, how could that have been anyone else? Did she hallucinate it? Was she crazy? A tornado of thoughts rammed about in her head, making it ache.

"I'm sorry. I know that was a stupid question. What I meant to ask was... Would you want to come have dinner with us tonight. I know it's short notice and you probably have plans but..." Tears began to leak from his glassy eyes, his throat foggy with the memories and words and missing pieces tightening in a belt around his neck. "Jane. She wanted you to meet the girls properly. She wanted..." His voice broke, and he ran his hand over his face slowly. For the first time Emma saw the redness in his eyes and the dark circles that ran under them.

"She said that if anything ever happened to her she would want you to be in their lives. To be the mom they need. And I know that's a lot of pressure, so I just want to settle on dinner."

His lower lip trembled as he turned his head slightly, picking up one of the girls and balancing her on his hip. Mark leaned in to inhale the sweet scent of her hair, trying his hardest not to break down, not to cry, to keep it behind closed doors. Emma supposed that they were the same in that way. Just trying not to let the pains show.

He turned back to her, catching her eye in a fierce gaze. "I know you can't replace her. No one can. But it would be nice for the girls to have a cool aunt."

And how could she say no? Jane was watching her after all. So she had to say yes. And in no way, shape, or form was that decision influenced by the dark bambi eyes of her new-found nieces. Jane's eyes. Her eyes. And now theirs.

And there's no remedy for memory   
Your face is like a melody  
It won't leave my head

"Well this is nice. I'm glad to have the whole family back together again."

Emma glanced up at her mother, a small, forced smile presenting itself on her face. "Yeah, Mom. The whole family," she supplied bitterly. Her mother's eyes turned hard and watery, and she glanced away quickly, pulling her handkerchief from the folds of her skirt.

Her father, unable to stand the silence, cleared his throat awkwardly, diverting the conversation. "So, Mark. Have the girls been sleeping well? I understand that it was hard to put them to bed for a few days."

Mark, eager for conversation that felt natural and comfortable, though he wasn't sure anything would be natural and comfortable without his Jane, jumped to answer. "Yes, actually. Sometimes Molly wakes up in the night, but a snack puts her right back to sleep." Both men smiled a brief smile and looked to the kids' table, where the inseparable twins sit giggling and whispering secrets.

Emma remembered a time where her and Jane were like that. Before the competition. Before the comparing started. After that every single second of Emma's childhood and adolescence was spent trying to catch up to Jane. They became defined by their accomplishments. Jane the straight A student. Jane the cheerleader. Jane the college graduate. Jane the attentive child. Emma the straight C student. Emma the artist. Emma the actress. Emma the one who never calls home anymore.

But before that... There were tea parties and self-produced plays in the backyard. There were sleepovers under the covers and giggles and secrets. There were two best friends, made for each other. Emma missed that. She missed it so much that she wanted to break down crying. But she couldn't cry. She couldn't cry.

"I need to go." She stood up from the table suddenly, and ran from the suffocating house.

Don't cry can't cry don't cry can't cry.

Your soul is haunting me and telling me  
That everything is fine  
But I wish I was dead

The motel room was dark when she opened the door. Even the soft thump of the keys to her rental car missing their designated bowl didn't deter her from the direct route to her temporary bed.

The sheets were no better than any from her other brief stints in semi-permanent living situations. She never stayed anywhere for long. Restless energy flowed through her body, drove her mad.

And it was lonely. So, so lonely, all of the time. But would Emma do anything about that?

The obvious answer is no.

The room was quiet. Too quiet. And despite the sleep deprivation weighing heavily on her shoulders, her eyes remained open and blank, staring a hole in the ceiling. Every moment she slept was full of Jane's face. She couldn't stand seeing it anymore, yet not being able to touch it. To feel Jane's smooth skin and loose curls under her fingertips and the steady rise and fall of her chest to remind Emma that she was alive, they were alive and surviving. Right now they weren't alive and they certainly were the furthest thing from surviving. So she didn't allow sleep to come.

Even still, her face plagued Emma's every waking moment as well.

Thoughts could not help but be thrown around in the dark, cold, solitary room of her mind, where she was forever shackled, a slave to her own misery. Welts raised on her back from the whipping of numbness, and her wrists were rubbed raw from trying to escape, yet there was no avail. Forever would she be alone and hurting.

Memories flashed across her vision, Jane in almost every one. Jane dancing. Jane laughing. Jane winning contests and competitions, ribbons and medals showing just how much better she was than her younger sister. It stung her eyes with tears, but with a set jaw she pushed them back. She promised herself she wouldn't cry. Not for the rest of her life.

How long would that be? And more importantly, what was even the point? What was a beating heart with a dead mind?

The answer? Nothing.

Every time I close my eyes  
It's like a dark paradise

The jingle of the bell was loud and melodic across the small shop, and Emma glanced up at the door to see yet another group of teens walk in, laughing and smiling, unburdened by the weight of regret that comes with age. But she knew better than to underestimate what was raging in their minds. She too was like them once, and hadn't she had many a hidden hardship herself?

"How can I help you?" she asked, putting on her best face and the façade of a perky, plucky voice. After taking their orders she glanced at the clock. Great. The Saturday lunch rush was about to come in. No time to think about that, though.

The job at Beanies was great. Well, not great. It had shitty pay and lousy staff and even lousier customers. But, it was a distraction. She hadn't moved out of the motel yet, despite her parent's pleas to move back into her own room. Despite the bills from the motel piling up, she had adamantly declined. It was hard putting down roots for her. How would it be if those roots were ten feet away from the remainder or Jane's childhood, her room a shrine, testament to her superiority.

The bell jingled again, and she glanced up from the hot chocolate she had been making to see a tall man walking in. He looked a bit disgruntled, probably mad that the Starbucks down the street was closed. She would be too if she had to endure Beanies' god awful coffee instead of Starbucks' slightly less god awful coffee. Emma preferred to make her own with ingredients from the store, thank you very much. She knew just the right creamer to buy and just the right amount to put in, and it was her philosophy that a great creamer can override any crap coffee you pair it with and make a bearable lifeline of caffeine.

I'll be right with you, sir!" she chirped, trying to hide the pain of being so annoyingly and insufferably perky, as was requested by her manager, Nora.

He cleared his throat nervously. "Th-Thanks."

She bustled around the small space, bullshitting her way through over complicated orders. No one would know if she made them correctly or not, she had discovered in her first few weeks working there. Everybody pretended that they knew exactly what they wanted and how they wanted it to taste, but coffee was coffee and who really cared?

"All right sir, what can I get for you?"

Their eyes met for the first time, and Emma thought she had never seen such an alluring shade of blue, even with her many years sitting by tropical seas and staring at clouds on hillsides. A timid ocean ebbed and flowed behind those long, brown lashes, azure meeting sapphire in a potion that was sure to make her dizzy if she stared too long.

His lips were moving yet she didn't hear anything. Those lips were full and pink, kissable even. What would they feel like against her lips, she wondered. Probably soft and gentle, letting her take the lead, which she wouldn't mind at all.

A hand waved in front of her face, startling her back to reality. "Excuse me?"

"Oh! I'm sorry sir, what did you say?"

"It's okay. A black coffee?" he supplied, more of a question than an answer.

"Okay," she said to herself as she moved to create his thankfully straightforward, if not a bit basic order. It had been forever, years, since she'd had an interaction like that. Actually, why deny it? It wasn't just an interaction, it was a crush at first sight. And, damn! She wasn't so opposed to it.

"Maybe this job isn't so bad."

No one compares to you  
I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

"Emmy." Her father's tone was startled, eyes wide. It had been weeks since she had graced them with her presence, or rather worked up the courage to look her parents in the eyes and stand being in that stifling house.

"Hey, Dad. Can I come in?" Emma ducked her head, staring at her feet as they shuffled restlessly on the stone doorstep.

"Of course." He stepped aside, letting her in. "Annie, we have company!" he yelled.

Her mother stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her floury hands on her apron. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw her daughter. Tears welled up in her eyes and for a split second, Emma began to think that maybe it was hard for them to see her too. She and Jane looked so alike, after all.

"Emmy." Her mother rushed forward, pulling Emma into a tight hug. At first Emma froze, fighting back tears. Then she wrapped her arms around her mom, burying her face in her shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything. For leaving. For not calling. For being so awful. For rushing out the other night."

"It was our fault too, Sweetheart. We weren't the best parents, I see that now. I'm sorry we gave up so easily." She cupped her daughter's head, pulling her closer, savoring the first close contact that she'd had with Emma in a literal decade.

And maybe it was a miracle, or because of Jane's death and the need they held for each other, but suddenly things were as close to normal as they had been in longer than any of them could remember.

"Do you want to help me make cookies?"

"Chocolate chip?"

"Of course."

Every time I close my eyes  
It's like a dark paradise

"So, how was backpacking?"

The smell of sweet chocolate chip cookies baking floated through the kitchen as the two women sat at the table, reclining with bowls of leftover dough, like old times. Emma frowned, sucking on a chocolate chunk.

"Amazing. And horrible. I got to see the most amazing sights, meet interesting people, discover pieces of myself. I found out that...I'm bisexual." She glanced up to gauge her mother's reaction. She was smiling and nodding. Warmth and relief flooded her chest. She'd just gotten her mom back. She didn't know if she could stand losing her again.

"I also was isolated. I was alone. I did a lot of things I'm not proud of for money and survival. It was scary and dangerous and I missed you guys more than I cared to admit. The volunteer work was fun, though."

"You volunteered?"

Emma smiled, thinking back to the memories. "Yeah. I worked with a lot of natural disaster relief and animal rescue organizations. It was a great experience. Ten years of volunteering really makes you feel like you're actually doing something. I never stayed anywhere for more than a season, though. Then I packed up and moved along."

"It sounds...complicated." The older woman sighed, sliding her finger around the mouth of her wine glass. "I missed you. We all missed you. But, it sounds like you enjoyed it at least some of the time. And I'm glad you decided to help people instead of just traveling. I guess...I just always wondered what kind of person you leveled out to be. I know I was hard on you when you were younger. I just wanted to know if you were still my Emmy, I guess."

Emma stared at her fingers for a while, fighting an inner war with her emotions, trying to keep them at bay. After a while she slid her hand across the table to settle on top of her mothers. All that needed to be said flowed through the slight touch. Maybe they weren't 100% okay, but they were damn sure on their way there.

A voice in Emma's head butted in, asking whether or not she would be there to enjoy the normalcy. She pushed it back, a sickly feeling in her stomach.

No one compares to you

"Are you settling back in okay?"

Emma turned to Mark, biting her lip. "I guess so. Mom and Dad are helping me pay for an apartment, work is work..." She trailed off, turning back to the playground. Allie and Molly tottered up the steps of the slide, giggling.

"But how are you doing?" he asked, stressing the 'you'.

"Fine," she lied, plastering a smile onto her face. "I really enjoy these playdates. Seeing the girls." She reached her hand to cover his, and he smiled back.

"They love you so much, you know that?"

She felt a lump begin to form in her throat. "I know. I love them too. I didn't know if I could, but I do."

"Auntie Emmy!" Allie laughed, waddling up to her. Emma scooped her up into her arms, giving her a huge kiss on the cheek.

"What's up, Alliebug?"

Molly climbed onto her father's lap beside them, grinning. "Can we get ice cream? Pwease?"

"Sure, Mollydoodle." Mark chuckled, standing. "Chocolate still your favorite, Em?"

"You know it."

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Shadows climbed high on the walls of her bedroom, their stories flowing through Emma's mind. Bent over crooked trees, silhouettes passing, cars rushing by, lights flickering as the world continued outside of her sad, lonely bubble.

That night, like every night, the thoughts welled up in her head until she couldn't think straight, doing everything she could to just hold on to her stony façade for dear life. If she lost that, what would she have? It was the thing that kept her centered, rooted in reality. Numbness was her captor and her escape, chaining her next to a scenic window, letting her see the real world yet keeping her from it.

"It doesn't have to be this way you know."

Emma blinked, her eyelids heavy. Surely she was just hearing things. Then, out of the shadows a figure stepped.

"Jane," Emma choked, fighting back tears.

"Emmy."

"How...How are you here? I thought I was going crazy!"

Jane smiled sadly, stepping further into the glow from street lights streaming in through the window. "It doesn't matter. I'm here, though."

Jane reached out a very solid looking hand, cupping her sister's face. It was warm.

Emma jerked forward, pulling Jane into a suffocating hug, clinging to her. She smelled of pine, like the perfume she'd worn incessantly throughout their youth, a gift from Mark on their first Christmas together. Her skin was smooth and alive under Emma's fingertips, breath soft in her ear, heart beating firmly under her ear.

"You're dead," she whispered.

"Yes."

"Am I crazy?"

"Maybe."

For the first time in a while Emma got a full three hours of sleep, her dead sister's arms wrapped so tightly around her that the doubts didn't seep in until morning.

All my friends ask me why I stay strong  
Tell 'em when you find true love it lives on

The bell jingled melodically through the shop, making Emma wince. The sleep deprivation weighed heavily on her shoulders, making her head pound, sagging the skin under her eyes, coating her hair in unrest, fueling her thankfulness for her job at a coffee shop.

"How may I help you?" she asked, her back to the door, still focused on an order for a very rude middle aged woman, fleeting thoughts of hocking a loogie into the very specific drink flying through her mind.

"Um, just a black coffee please."

Her heart jumped into her throat, and she snapped her head up, knocking it roughly against the overhead cabinet. She stumbled backwards blazing hot coffee spilling over her hands. A pair of arms wrapped around her right as she was about to bust her head open on the sharp edge of the counter.

"Are you okay?"

Of course it was him who caught her.

"Yeah, thank you."

He lifted her to her feet, allowing her to catch a whiff of his sharp, pleasing aftershave. She felt her stomach twist with embarrassment.

"Do you have any ice? That's gonna welt up really badly. One time I, uh, was staying with my sister for Thanksgiving and I had to sleep in my nephew's bunk bed and I woke up in the middle of the night and hit my head on the top bunk and it swelled up really bad, and..." He smiled sheepishly. "I'm rambling aren't I? Sorry, I..."

"It's fine." Her voice was sharp, immediately stabbing her own heart with guilt. "Sorry, I didn't mean that...I mean, I did mean it, I'm fine, but I didn't mean it how I said it..."

They stood there for a bit, not daring to look at each other.

"I...I'm sure you need to get back to work." The tall man scuffed his shoe on the tile, hands in pockets. "I'm sorry, you don't have to talk to me."

"No!" She said a bit too loudly. "I mean, I like talking to you. You just saved my life after all. I'm just a bit embarrassed. I'm such a clutz."

"Oh, me too!" He rubbed the back of his neck, a goofy half smile on his face. Emma tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, stewing her awkwardness in the silence.

"I should get back to work."

"No! Yeah! Me too." He turned to walk out the door.

"Wait, your coffee!"

He turned, a bit embarrassed. "Right. Sorry."

She poured him a steaming cup of black coffee, handing it to him carefully.

"Here you go. Umm...Have a great day. I'll see you around."

He ducked his head adorably. "Yeah, see you around. Don't forget to ice that bump." He made an awkward looking finger gun motion.

Emma mimicked the motion, hating herself all the while. As his back retreated, she realized she never caught his name.

Black Coffee Guy it was.

That's why I stay here

Restlessness settled in her chest as the night wore on, the sky getting darker. It was late. Where was Jane? The dead woman was usually there by now to hold Emma and sing sweet melodies in her ear until sleep decided to claim her.

Jane, or Jane's ghost, whatever she was, had become a lifeline, a form of sleep medication, and Emma had slept better every night with her by her side. How would she sleep without her?

The night grew deeper, the clock stretching further and further into time until it read 12:30. Emma sighed, throwing back the comforter.

She would just have to do what she used to do on her travels when sleep evaded her. Get shit faced drunk until she couldn't see straight.

And there's no remedy for memory   
Your face is like a melody   
It won't leave my head

"Just vodka, please," Emma groaned, sliding onto the bar stool. The bartender nodded, moving to fill her simple order.

The bar was quieter than she expected, less people dancing and more people sitting at the bar staring into their drinks. Figures. Hatchetfield was so boring that instead of party girls there were sad drunks.

Guess that made her a sad drunk.

Her drink was set in front of her as she immediately wrapped her hand around the glass, bringing it to her lips. The cheap vodka was harsh on her tongue, abrasive and bitter. She swallowed it all down forcibly, relishing the feeling of numbness that washed over her.

The habits quickly settled back in, like they'd never left.

Your soul is haunting me and telling me  
That everything is fine  
But I wish I was dead

"Emma!" Nora's shrill voice cut through the stillness of the shop, making Emma's head pound from her massive hangover.

"Yes, Nora?"

"Pick up the pace with those to go orders! I'm not paying you to be a sloth."

Emma sighed, willing her body to move faster. "You're not paying me much period," she muttered.

She hadn't meant for Nora to hear, but damn her, right?

"I am sick and tired of your back talking, Emma. You're in no way to work today. Go home and get your shit together. Zoey and Jordan can work the shop by themselves."

Emma rolled her eyes, a big mistake on her part. The pounding in her head worsened and she gave in.

"Fine, I'll see you tomorrow for my closing shift." She closed the door to the back room behind her, untying her apron. Why couldn't she do anything right? She needed this job, not just for money, but also for her sanity. Besides, where else could she awkwardly run into Black Coffee Guy?

She just needed to go home and rest. Maybe drown her sorrows a bit. Tomorrow would be better. It had to be.

Every time I close my eyes  
It's like a dark paradise

It had been a month without a visit from Black Coffee Guy and everything had gone downhill. Why wasn't he coming in anymore? Come to think of it, he hadn't come in since the day she almost fell and he caught her. Maybe she made such a big fool of herself that he didn't even want to drink her shitty coffee anymore.

Isolation seemed more and more welcoming as the days went on and suddenly picking up the phone when Mark or her parents called was like lifting a boulder. Jane hadn't visited since she started drinking again, but she couldn't stop. It was all she could do to go to work.

Yep, her life was definitely falling into place. Suddenly the harsh taste of alcohol was more and more appetizing. Why was she even there anymore? It was all she could think.

Why was she there? Why was she bothering? Why do anything at all?

"Hey, Sweetie. It's your mom. I just...I'm wondering if you're okay. It's been a few weeks and you haven't been answering the phone and you cancelled our last visit...I'm just worried. Are you doing okay? Please just call me back. Is it something I did, or...Just call please."

"Hey, it's Mark. I was just wondering how you are. It's been a few weeks since the girls have seen you and they miss you. We all miss you, Emmy. God damnit, Emma, we just got you back, you can't just shut us out again. That's not how this works. We love you, you can't just pop in and out of our lives forever. I get that you're dealing with shit but we all are! We all miss her, it's not just you. Call me back when you've decided to be an adult."

No one compares to you

"Hey, Nora, I'm not feeling well."

A sigh crackled through the phone speaker. "It's fine, Emma. Alex can take your shift. Feel better."

"Thanks, Nora."

She clicked off the call, throwing her phone down on the bed next to her. Her head ached worse than ever before, and she longed for the days of such tolerance that she barely ever got hungover. She'd just have to keep working at it. Cirrhosis was supposed to lower your life expectancy significantly, so that was a plus.

What else was there to do but sleep or stare at the ceiling all day? Drink.

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

"Sorry I've been gone so long." Jane stepped out of the shadows of the kitchen. Emma sighed, keeping her back to her, focused on the glass in her hand.

"What's been keeping you away?" she muttered.

"Nevermind that. Why are you drinking again?" Jane's hand rested on Emma's shoulder, but her younger sister pulled away, standing up and walking to the fridge, away from the specter. The sound of alcohol filling the glass rushed in Emma's ears. It was a sick sort of comfort.

"Just like old times, huh? Jane the perfect one and Emma the screw up. She should just end it all, right? Take a bottle of pills and slit her wrists in the bathtub, right?" Her voice was bitter and cold, her eyes still not daring to meet her sister's.

"Emmy, stop. That isn't fair."

"Fair? Fair? You aren't even real."

Jane bit back the tears, scoffing. "I never knew how mean of a drunk you were. Maybe I should be glad that you left."

Her words were a knife in Emma's chest. She finally turned to face her sister, clenching her glass so tightly in her hand she thought it would break in her angry grip. "That's right. Be glad I left. I wish I'd never come back. I wish I'd found the courage to jump off that cliff in Guatemala or swallow that whole bag of pills in Honduras. I wish I'd ended it before you decided to leave me."

"Leave you?" Jane asked, her volume rising. "You left me first."

"Just get out." Emma glowered at the ghost, shaking with fiery rage that masked her resignation to the harshness of her sister's words.

"Don't you get it? I'm dead. I'm a figment of your imagination. I'm only saying things that you say to yourself."

Finally something broke inside of Emma. The glass shattered, the string was cut, and there was nothing holding her back. "Leave me alone!" she screeched.

Jane glared at her, but retreated into the darkness. The younger woman was left to down her drink and try once more not to cry. She didn't need Jane anyway. She had the alcohol to sing her to sleep.

Every time I close my eyes  
It's like a dark paradise

"Hi," a timid voice said.

Emma's head snapped up. "Hey. Long time no see." Her voice was hard and bitter. "Where ya been?"

Black Coffee guy cleared his throat nervously. "Around. Just um...Around."

"Around, huh? Interesting."

"Yeah." He tried to smile at her but it came out as more of a grimace of pain.

"Black coffee?" she asked, already moving to fill his order.

"Um, yeah. Thanks."

The air between them was silent for a while as the coffee brewed, filling the shop with the rich smell of French roast.

Emma pressed the lid onto the cup, sighing, her angry resolve breaking. "I'm glad you decided to come back. Um...See you tomorrow?"

The man smiled, a bit surprised. "Uhh, yeah. See you tomorrow."

As he retreated another man stepped through the door of the shop, taking his place in line. Emma's stomach dropped at the sight of his face approaching as she filled the orders.

"What would you like, Sir?"

"Jesus, Em. Sir?" Mark asked. "I thought you were better than that."

"Just order or go away, Mark." Emma sighed.

"That seems to be what you've done."

She withered under his harsh glare. "I...I don't need this."

Mark scoffed. "It seems you don't need anyone, do you? Emma can handle it all on her own, right? You come into my daughter's live again, you make them love you, and then you leave? How could you do that to them? You said that you loved them!" The patrons began to stare at the two, an uneasy feeling settling on the shop.

"I do!"

"Then why?" he questioned. "Why?"

Her voice wavered. "Because I don't deserve them. I just..." She squeezed her eyes shut, sighing, holding back the waves of tears waiting to be shed. "Leave me alone, Mark. I can't do this anymore." She tugged off her apron, throwing it down. "I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend that everything is normal and it'll all be okay." She went to move past him, to run out of the stifling shop before she suffocated, but he grabbed her arm, pulling her toward him.

"Have you been drinking again? I can smell it on your breath."

Her heart beat faster, nausea crashing over her in waves. "Who told you? Jane?"

"She told me right after you called her crying from rehab in Honduras." He sighed shakily. "Em, I can help. We can help you."

She ripped her arm from his grip. "No one can help me." The door jingled as she threw open the door. "I quit."

No one compares to you  
But there's no you  
Except in my dreams tonight

Knocking echoed through Emma's apartment as they banged on the door.

"Emmy, please just let us in! We want to help!" her mother called.

"Emma Elizabeth Perkins! Let us in!" her father begged.

It reminded her of her childhood, when she used to lock the door to her room and blast music so loud she couldn't hear the pounding on her door and her parents yelling. Except now she was an adult with a serious death wish and it wasn't about her grades anymore. This was her life and she was being careless with it. Not that she really gave a flying fuck.

"Emmy! I'm sorry! Just...Please let us help you. We love you too much to let you go again!"

Emma remained in her place on the couch, staring at the TV as it played a meaningless infomercial. If she stayed still long enough they'd go away.

It took a while, but as the sun set and the shadows creeped in, they finally retreated back home with the promise of coming back.

Emma fell asleep on the couch with a bottle in her hand.

Oh oh oh, ha ha ha  
I don't wanna wake up from this tonight  
Oh oh oh, ha ha ha  
I don't wanna wake up from this tonight

The daylight streamed in through her living room window, beams falling onto her face. Emma blinked, sighing, working up the nerve to sit up.

"Get up, Emmy."

It was a voice she hadn't heard in weeks, not since she demanded it to go away.

"Jane. Why did you come back?"

Jane sat lightly on the other end of the couch, clasping her hands over her crossed legs, eyes staring a hole into Emma's. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Emma whispered, unsure of what to do. "I don't want to live like this anymore. I miss you every moment. It hurts so much."

Jane's eyes glistened with tears. "I'm sorry for that. I wish there was a way to fix that."

Emma smiled at her sister's ghost sadly. "I think there is. I've just got to work up the courage."

She grabbed the still half full bottle of liquor, pressing it to her lips. The vodka burned her throat familiarly, the note of bitterness hitting her hard. She smiled.

"I'm ready."

There's no relief  
I see you in my sleep

The knot that was her stomach tightened with each rung she climbed, each step she took, as she climbed up, up, up. Ten feet. Twenty. Forty. Sixty. It would all be over soon. The thought made it easier to ignore the growing uneasiness nesting in her chest.

"I told you! This isn't the only way!" Jane called from below, her voice barely a whisper above the wind, as she began to climb behind her younger sister.

Emma just ignored her. She wasn't even real. But soon she would be. Soon they'd be together forever like it was intended from the beginning.

"Go away, Jane!"

And everybody's rushing me  
But I can feel you touching me

"What about Allie and Molly? You promised! You promised!" Jane shrieked, voice thick.

The concrete was cool under Emma's palms as she hoisted herself onto the highest ledge of the roof, battling the gale like winds that pushed at her petite figure. Overlooking the small town that had imprisoned her almost the entirety of her life, knowing that they would forget her in time, that everyone would forget her in time, even the nieces that felt like daughters who were too young to remember for long and the closest thing to a brother that she had ever had, left a bittersweet taste in her mouth. At least she would finally be free. From here, death was certain. From here, happiness was certain.

There's no release  
I feel you in my dreams  
Telling me I'm fine

The wind whipped around her as she stepped up onto the small wall on the edge of the roof, causing her curly tresses to dance about in their last hurrah. She closed her eyes, relishing this last taste of life, pinpricks on her sallow, unmaintained skin as she swayed unsteadily.

"I won't miss this," she decided.

She didn't, no, couldn't admit that she would, in fact, miss a few things. The giggles of the twins trickling through the air, melodic and happy and innocent. The sound of Mark's first laughs after the funeral, which only emerged around his two little girls. The smell of her mother's chocolate chip cookies, and the rose perfume that had plagued her childhood. The feel of her father's arms around her, so warm and welcoming. The bright blue ocean eyes of "Black Coffee Guy", and his nervous smile. Nora and Zoey's constant bickering, the soundtrack of her morning.

Each of these was drowned out by the memories of a certain someone. Vanished by the realization that no matter how many times Emma saw her shadow, she was gone forever. The river of vodka flowing through her head made too much noise, not leaving time for second thoughts and sentiments. It was now or never.

Every time I close my eyes  
It's like a dark paradise

"What are you doing up there?" A faint, urgent voice broke Emma from her trance, and she whirled around to face a man standing just below her on the lower half of the roof, his face a broken mask of panic and fear as his own brunette locks were comically blown from his forehead. His eyes were wide, showing the pale blue oceans behind his eyelids. "Get down from there!"

Her laugh was cold and bitter and freeing. "I don't intend to ever do that. At least not your way."

No one compares to you

"Please! Just come down! I promise I can help you!" He looked on the brink of tears, like he actually cared about what happened to her, but then again it could have just been the sting of the cold December wind on his cheeks causing the crying. If anyone cared about her then she wouldn't be on that ledge, about to take a swan dive to her freedom. Besides, he was a stranger, not someone who had any business in telling her to live her life. Or rather, how to end it.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Dude."

"You always were a stubborn one, Emmy." Emma yelped, jumping as Jane appeared at her side. "Please don't do it. Don't jump. Suicide isn't the answer. Please. You're going to regret this if you go through with it." Jane grabbed her sister's arms, shaking her. "God damnit, Emma! It's not worth it! Please, it's not worth it!"

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Tears began to slip down her cheeks, something she hadn't intended upon. Crying wasn't something she'd done in months and months, not since the funeral, and she didn't want to now. She'd leave the living world of her own accord, her dignity firmly intact.

"Why don't you want me there with you? Do you hate me that much? Is it because I ran away from here? Because I ignored you? Why do you hate me? You promised you'd never hate me!"

"I could never, ever, ever hate you, Emmy. Please. Just climb down to that man. Build a new life. Push past your grief and live. For me. For the girls. For Mark. For Mom and Dad. And for yourself." She reached out her ghostly hand, caressing her sister's cheek with her thumb, wiping away the chilled tears from her skin. "I'll see you later," she murmured, her words a punch in the gut. They were the last words she'd said to Emma before the crash, yelled over the phone hurriedly as she rushed to grab her kid who'd gotten into something she wasn't supposed to.

And suddenly, she was gone, blown away in the storm. Emma reached out, reached for Jane's hand as her body floated away into the sky, begging Jane to take her with her.

Her stomach dropped as she stepped off the edge.

It was what she had wanted.

Right?

So why was she so terrified? Why did she cry out for help as the air swallowed her, pushing her body down, down, down to a fate that had comforted her not two minutes ago?

Every time I close my eyes  
It's like a dark paradise

A hand grabbed hers, halting her fall with a harsh jerk. Emma glanced up hopefully. Maybe it was Jane. Maybe Jane had come back for her. But instead, she spied the man from the roof. He looked familiar to her now.

"Black Coffee Guy?" she asked, more like a fleeting thought than actual words. His looked down at her and she suddenly recognized the blue sea rolling under his long dark lashes. A corner of his mouth turned up, but the half smile quickly disappeared under the strain of holding her entire body weight.

His smile was beautiful.

No one compares to you  
But that there's no you, except in my dreams tonight

"I've got you, Emma!" He grunted as he began to pull her up by her hands. It occurred to Emma that maybe she should help him, but her body was numb with fear and defeat. And so the struggle went, as he huffed and puffed, finally heaving her over the side and to safety.

She launched herself at him, clinging to his neck. After a moment of shock, he hugged her back so tight she thought she'd never be able to breathe again, not that she minded.

Oh oh oh, ha ha ha  
I don't wanna wake up from this tonight

"Why did you do that?" she panted. "You don't even know me."

"Of course I know you. You're smart and funny and sarcastic and tough. You never take shit from rude customers. You can out cuss Gordon Ramsey. You're so beautiful and your laugh is so amazingly unique and unfiltered. But I see you struggle every day. The dark circles underneath your eyes, the oily shine to your hair, the fact that your smile never quite reaches your eyes. You're so strong. Please ask for help next time it gets this bad. Please don't ever scare me like that again."

Under different circumstances, to another person, it might have sounded creepy. But someone looked at her. Someone noticed her. Someone cared. And that was enough.

"What's your name?"

"Paul."

Paul. It was short, like his coffee order, and sweet despite it, rolling of her tongue as she repeated it to herself. "Paul. Well, I'm Emma." she sniffled. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Paul stifled a chuckle. "Come on. I've got a place we can go to. I'm not letting you out of my sight." He picked her up like a toddler, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, burying her face in his neck as he walked to the stairwell that led to a new chapter of both of their lives.

Oh oh oh, ha ha ha  
I don't wanna wake up from this tonight


End file.
